


Somewhere Only We Know

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Dimension Travel, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: Stiles goes missing in the spring.---A figure was curled up against the bottom of a tree, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around his knees.Boyd’s heart hammered.Stiles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> please see end notes for warnings in this chapter

_“Boyd.”_

_He rolled his head to the side, chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He expected Stilinski to be grinning at him, or already climbing out of the bed. Instead, he was gazing at Boyd, his expression strangely serious, brown eyes intent on his face._

_“Yeah?”_

_“I...” Stilinski paused, throat working as he swallowed. “I -.”_

_“Hey, shit, you’re bleeding.” Boyd pushed up onto one elbow, frowning at the little trickle of blood sliding from Stiles’ nose._

_Stilinski blinked, lifting a hand to his nose. He swiped at the blood, frowning down at the little red streak staining his skin as he sat up. Boyd eyed him, then climbed from the bed, heading for the door. He disposed of the condom on the way, making a mental note to clean out his trash can later. His parents were out, so he didn’t worry as he crossed the hall to the bathroom, flicking on the light. He wet a washcloth, wiping the come off his stomach, and rinsed it again, figuring Stilinski would want to clean up, and grabbed a wad of toilet roll for the nose bleed._

_When he returned to his bedroom, Stilinski was gone._

***

He woke to the quiet buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reached his hand out, fumbling blindly in the dark to take his phone off charge and lift it above his face. He squinted at the screen, eyes itching with sleep. Erica’s ID lit up the screen as his phone started buzzing again and he slid his thumb across to answer.

“’Rica?” He mumbled, his words cracked apart by a yawn. “It’s two in the morning.”

“We found Stiles.”

Boyd sat straight up, chest suddenly tight. “Is he...?”

“He’s alive,” Erica confirmed, voice quiet. “We’re in the preserve, near the bridge. The Sheriff and Scott are on their way, but I think you should get over here, Boyd. He’s...he’s not good.”

He squeezed the words out past the lump in his throat. “I’m on my way.”

***

_He’d just bitten into a slice of pizza when the doorbell rang._

_Boyd frowned, dropping the slice back onto his plate and wiping grease off his fingers as he got to his feet, closing the lid of his laptop. His parents were both at work and wouldn’t be back until late and he’d told the others he’d be busy studying tonight, so he wasn’t expecting anyone over. He paused in the hallway, closing his eyes, and concentrated the way Derek had taught him, coaxing his senses to pinpoint what he needed without being overwhelmed. The heartbeat outside the door was fast, anxious, but familiar._

_Stilinski._

_With a frown, he slid back the chain and opened the door, raising his eyebrows. Dude looked a little wired up, shifting his weight from foot to foot and his gaze sliding from his shoes to the door to his hands to Boyd’s face, but when Stilinski finally looked at him, his mouth pulled up into his usual grin._

_“’S’up?” He easily shouldered his way past Boyd into the house, heading straight into the kitchen._

_With a sigh, Boyd closed the door and followed, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Stilinski. He peered at the papers and textbook on the table, nodding slightly to himself, fiddling absently with the pens scattered by Boyd’s laptop before moving to the fridge. He peered inside and grabbed a soda, but paused, lifting it in question. He waited for Boyd’s quick, jerky nod before popping the tab and taking a long gulp._

_He figured he should probably be bothered by Stilinski barging in and making himself at home, moving Boyd’s things, but he wasn’t. There was a kind of frantic energy behind Stilinski’s every move and it was something Boyd was used to seeing, usually when the dude was keyed up over something, but it didn’t irritate him the way it used to._

_“You hungry?” He asked, dropping back into his seat and nudging the pizza box towards Stiles._

_He sat down in the chair to Boyd’s right, grabbing a slice of pizza. He took a huge bite, barely chewing before washing it down with another gulp of Coke._

_Boyd raised an eyebrow. “Gross.”_

_Stilinski just grinned, licking grease off his fingers, and Boyd had to look away. He shuffled his stack of notes, reaching out to grab his highlighter._

_“That’s microeconomics, right?” Stilinski picked up a couple of Biros, tapping a beat with them on the edge of the table. “You’re in AP.”_

_Boyd paused, gaze cutting across to Stiles. He was looking through Boyd’s notes, expression curious, and Boyd hesitated to answer, trying to figure out where Stilinski was going with this. He didn’t have many friends, but the people he did talk to never seemed to think he was good at this stuff, that he had a strong GPA and kinda enjoyed studying. Isaac had been surprised when he figured out Boyd was actually smart and once that wore off, the teasing had started._

_After a second, Boyd went back to his textbook, the squeak of his highlighter loud and sharp in the quietness of the room._

_“I can help you study if you want.”_

_Boyd snorted. “You’re shit at economics.”_

_“I can figure it out. Maybe. Probably.” Stiles tugged the textbook closer to him, squinting at the passage Boyd had highlighted. “Yeah, nope. Bored. Bored already. So bored.”_

_Boyd bit back a smile. It’d only encourage him. He uncapped his pen with his teeth, spitting it out before asking, “Why are you here, Stilinski?”_

_As little as a year ago, he wouldn’t have considered Stiles Stilinski a friend, but the dude had an irritating way of just growing on people. At some point, it had hit him that, yeah, he probably would call Stilinski a friend, and, hell, a good one at that. Some point after that, the flirting had started. Not Stiles flirting with him. That was old hat by then; Stilinski liked to flirt. No, it was Boyd flirting back and finding he liked it that was new._

_But still. They weren’t exactly the kind of friends to just show up at each other’s houses unannounced. They didn’t hang out like this, with pizza and schoolwork and Boyd’s Labrador snoring in the front room. It just wasn’t something they did._

_“You noticed anything weird lately?”_

_“Besides you?” Boyd shot on automatic, a second before the seriousness of Stilinski’s tone registered. He looked up, frowning slightly. “Nah, it’s been quiet lately. Why? Have you?”_

_Stilinski’s face was uncharacteristically stoic and he offered a casual shrug. “Not really. Just a feeling.”_

_His feelings usually turned out to be right. Boyd capped his pen, giving him his full attention. “What kinda feeling?” When Stilinski just shrugged again, fiddling with the napkins that had come with the pizza, folding them and straightening them before shredding them, Boyd nudged his ankle with his own. “Spill.”_

_Stiles finally looked at him, suddenly so withdrawn. His brown eyes were wide. “Just this bad feeling. Like something’s gonna happen. And this smell.”_

_“Smell?” Boyd repeated, dubious._

_“I can’t explain it. It’s almost like a taste. Like metal but...not.” Stiles looked away, brows pulling together. “I don’t know. It feels too calm.”_

_“I feel like that a lot. Like things won’t ever be normal.”_

_Stiles’ mouth ticked up slightly. “You’re a werewolf. Shit’s never gonna be normal again. That ship has sailed, my friend.”_

_He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s like it’s too calm and you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. Has anything else happened?”_

_Stiles’ hand twitched towards his nose. “No. I just...” He shook his head. “You’re right, I’m being paranoid.”_

_“Have you talked to Scott about it?”_

_“He’s...happy. I don’t wanna fuck with that.”_

_“I can talk to Derek. Maybe keep an eye out for anything weird.”_

_Stilinski’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he nodded, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Cool.”_

_Apparently that was the end of the conversation. Boyd studied him for a moment, but Stiles looked a lot calmer, so he turned back to his textbook. Stilinski didn’t interrupt him again, just leaned back as he played some game on his phone, thumbs tapping rapidly over the screen. Occasionally, he stopped to eat or take a sip of his drink, but he stayed quiet for what was probably a record in the amount of time Boyd had known him._

_Eventually, he flipped his book shut and organized his notes, tucking them away in his backpack. Stiles didn’t look up until Boyd stood, unplugging his laptop._

_“We should have sex.”_

_Boyd paused for a second before raising his eyebrows. “Yeah?”_

_Stiles finished something on his phone and tucked it away, lifting his hips slightly to slide it into his pocket. “Sure,” he said. “You want to?”_

_He looked over those slim hips, the strip of skin exposed where his stupid stud muffin shirt rode up. He took in Stiles’ long fingers and strong forearms, dragged his gaze up his chest to the smug fucking smirk on his face, the warmth in his amber eyes, and it only took him a second to decide._

_“Yeah. I want to.”_

_Stiles’ smirk widened into a grin. “Cool.” And he was up on his feet, heading for the stairs, expecting Boyd to follow. He did. “When do your parents get home?”_

_“My mom’ll be back around midnight,” Boyd replied, shadowing Stiles up the stairs._

_“Cool,” Stiles repeated, glancing at his watch. “We have time for you to fuck me, then.”_

_And that...that kind of fried any coherent thought from Boyd’s brain._

_Sex with Stiles was fast and hard and unfairly fucking good. It was rough and loud, Boyd vaguely aware of his headboard hitting the wall as Stiles rode him. He didn’t hold back, unashamedly noisy; the only time he was quiet was when he bent to kiss Boyd messily. There was teeth and tongue and loud cries, and nails on Boyd’s chest and Stiles’ ass clenching around him as he finished, the hot splatter of come on his stomach seconds before his own orgasm shook him._

_And after, it was Stiles looking at him, blood dripping from his nose, eyes dark and unreadable, and it was an empty bed when Boyd returned from the bathroom._

***

Stiles Stilinski had been declared missing two days later.

***

He dressed quietly, careful to avoid the creaky spots on his floor. His window was already open and he wasn’t new to sneaking out; in a matter of minutes, he was landing in a crouch on the front lawn. 

He vaulted over the squeaky gate rather than take the chance of waking his parents and set off. It was a more direct route through town, but if he took the back roads, he could run faster without the risk of being seen. He was about to turn right at the end of the road when the familiar purr of an engine caught his attention and he stopped as a car drew up next to him. The window rolled down; Derek was driving and Braeden was in the back, leaning forward to look out at Boyd.

“Erica called.” Derek jerked his chin towards the passenger seat. “Get in.”

Boyd rounded the car, climbing into the passenger seat. The door had barely closed before Derek gunned it. At this hour, the streets were empty, and Boyd doubted a cop car would pull them over considering the Sheriff’s son had just been found. 

“You okay?” Derek asked quietly.

Boyd gazed out of the windshield. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gave a dry, almost amused sound, but didn’t ask again, and the rest of the drive was silent. Derek parked behind a familiar blue Volvo and they climbed out, heading onto the track that lead to the bridge. It wasn’t long before Boyd caught the faint trace of Stiles’ scent and he swallowed as he and Derek veered off the path in tandem, tracking the trail with Braeden following them. 

He saw Erica, Malia and Lydia first. Lydia and Malia were both kneeling in the leaves, talking quietly, while Erica stood nearby, arms folded as she waited for them to arrive. A good few feet from them, a figure was curled up against the bottom of a tree, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around his knees. 

Boyd’s heart hammered. 

_Stiles_.

The town was in the middle of the heat wave and it was a hot night; the kind of still, thick heat that felt like a pressure weighing him down, sweat prickling the back of his neck, his lungs feeling like they were stuffed with cotton wool when he breathed. But Stiles was shivering, minute little rocks that shook his frame. There was blood and dirt on his exposed forearms.

Braeden took a step towards him.

“I wouldn’t,” Erica said quietly. “He freaked out when we tried to get too close. He’s not...I don’t think he’s entirely here right now. He recognized us, but he seems...I don’t know. Suspicious.”

Derek frowned. “Where was he? Where’s he _been_?”

“If I knew that, I woulda found him months ago.” Erica replied dryly. “We were just walking when Malia caught his trail.”

“Walking?” Derek repeated. 

Her mouth curled into a sarcastic smile. “Midnight walk with my girlfriends. Romance, ever heard of it?”

Boyd opened his mouth to interrupt, but paused when he noticed Stiles had moved. He’d lifted his head, gaze fixed on Boyd, wide and sharply focused, and it made goosebumps crawl over his skin as Stiles slowly stood, a little unsteady on his feet.

“Stiles?” Lydia asked softly. 

He didn’t take his gaze off Boyd, but he didn’t move again, either. Boyd drifted closer without really thinking about it.

Behind him, Braeden must have seen something on Lydia’s face because she asked, “What is it?”

“I could feel something. Smell something...” Lydia murmured, almost absently. “I could taste it. Like metal.”

A chill swept through Boyd. He took another step closer, but the crunch of a twig caught Stiles’ attention and his gaze snapped to the left in time to see Scott approach, flagged by the Sheriff and a couple of deputies.

“Scott,” Stiles wheezed out, then, louder, “ _Scott_.”

And he was moving, closing the few feet between him and his best friend. For a second, he just stared at Scott before grabbing him in a hard, desperate hug, shoving his face against his neck.

“Hey, hey,” Scott soothed. He hugged Stiles back, thumb stroking over his shoulder blade. “It’s okay. We got you, you’re okay. Shit, Stiles, where have you _been_?”

“Is he hurt?” The Sheriff stepped forward, hand landing gently on his son’s shoulder, and the sharp flinch Stiles gave in return made them all freeze. Sheriff Stilinski swallowed, letting his hand fall. 

Stiles didn’t let go of Scott, even as he tried to calm him down, and Boyd stepped back, feeling almost lost. Derek approached Erica. 

“I’m gonna follow his trail,” he said. “See if I can find out where he came from.” _Find out what the fuck happened_ was left unsaid, but Boyd knew it was what he was thinking. It was what they were all thinking.

Erica glanced at Boyd, silently asking if he needed her. When he shook his head slightly, she gave Derek a nod. “Me and Malia will come with you.”

Boyd almost offered to help too, but Erica and Malia were two of the best trackers, and the idea of walking away from Stiles felt wrong. He hadn’t exactly thrown his arms around him the way he did Scott, but the way he’d _looked_ at Boyd, like he knew him, like he trusted him...Boyd didn’t want to take that away from him right now, not when he seemed unsure of everyone else.

By the time Derek, Erica and Malia had gone, disappearing before the deputies could grab hold of them for their statements, Stiles had calmed slightly. He’d pulled back from Scott but still had a grip on his wrist, like he was scared to let go, and Scott offered a soft smile despite the concern on his face.

“We’re gonna get you checked out, okay? And then we’re gonna take you home.” Scott said gently. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay now.” One of the deputies opened his mouth, but quickly snapped it shut again when both Scott and the Sheriff sent him a dark look. “You don’t have to talk about it just yet, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

Stiles just stared at him, expression raw. “You’re _here_.” 

Scott’s brow furrowed. “’Course I am, Stiles.”

“No, you...you’re _here_.” Stiles’ voice cracked slightly and he lifted his hand, pressing it over Scott’s heart. He closed his eyes, a broken look on his face. “You’re _here_.”

Scott swallowed, curling a protective arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

It took a few more minutes of Scott talking, quiet but soothing, before Stiles finally looked at the Sheriff. His gaze searched his father’s face for a moment before he swallowed.

“Dad?” This time, the break in his voice brought on fresh tears.

Sheriff Stilinski grabbed him into a hug, hand on the back of his head as he held him, tears in his eyes. Boyd looked away, meeting Scott’s concerned gaze. Lydia had moved to stand next to him at some point, her expression somewhat lost, her arms folded around her middle. She was breathing carefully, nose twitching slightly, and Boyd inhaled deeply, trying to parse through the different scents of the woods.

_There_. Just a slight metallic tint in the air. Once he caught it, it filled his nose and throat and mouth, but when he breathed out, it was gone again. He frowned; the fact that it seemed so much stronger to Lydia – and had done to Stiles – creeped him out. Generally, when Lydia sensed something others didn’t, shit was about to hit the fan.

Eventually, Stiles allowed Scott to guide him towards the path, back towards the cars. Stiles didn’t let go of his wrist, even as he stumbled slightly, and he kept checking that the Sheriff was still there on his other side. Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder, meeting Boyd’s gaze with an unreadable look in his eyes. 

Braeden said she’d meet them at the station, taking off in Derek’s car, but Lydia hung back with Boyd as Sheriff Stilinski opened the car door for Stiles. 

“Boyd,” Scott caught his attention. He tossed his keys to him. “Can you drive my car? I’m riding with Stiles.” 

Boyd nodded, taking a step towards Scott’s car, but then he froze. “Wait.”

Scott’s gaze snapped back to him. “What?”

“Is that my shirt?”

Even covered in dirt, the red jeans Stiles was wearing were recognizable as the ones he’d been wearing the night Boyd last saw him, but the shirt definitely wasn’t. The soft grey Henley was too broad around the shoulders for him, hanging a little loosely on his frame, but it was definitely familiar; it was missing the middle button on the front and there was a blue patch on the left elbow where his mom had repaired a tear.

Scott shrugged, confused and a little impatient. “Probably got it from the same store.” 

“No,” Boyd shook his head. “It’s _my_ shirt. Exactly the same.”

“You two...I mean, you two slept together, right? Stiles probably stole it. It does kinda smell like you.”

“Scott. Look at my shirt.”

Scott paused, glancing at Boyd’s chest, and he went very, very still. He took in the missing middle button, the blue patch on the left elbow, just staring at the shirt Boyd was wearing.

The _exact_ same shirt that Stiles was wearing.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: sexual content; mention of blood. 
> 
> This story should be completed by the end of the week and will be posted then. 
> 
> allirica.tumblr.com


End file.
